


The Mysteries of Astronomy

by fireandhoney



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Advent Calendar 2020, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Stars, it's always 1895, night sky, through time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandhoney/pseuds/fireandhoney
Summary: "You didn’t care for the mysteries of astronomy, but I hoped one day you could recognize the beauty of it as I did that night."
Relationships: Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 41





	The Mysteries of Astronomy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a story here, so please, be gentle?  
> This came to me as I was working on my Christmas Advent Calendar challenge. I am not very talented at writing fiction, so I am practicing with Christmas related prompts. This wasn't at all the prompt for today, but it came to me and it wouldn't leave. I hope it makes you even 10% as happy reading it as it made me when I wrote it. 
> 
> These notes are too long already so go ahead, enjoy!

I will never forget that day. We were walking together down the snow covered path, the thin ice crackling under our feet. Snowflakes landed on your dark curls, a bright contrast in the white scenery. A quickly dissipating cloud escaped your lips as you breathed out and I was mesmerized. You tightened your scarf around your neck and I reached for your gloved hand, slipping my fingers between yours. We’d lived many winters together, but never truly _together_. You gave my hand a squeeze and everything was right in the world, everything was forgiven. Nothing else mattered than us, side by side, the cold colouring your cheeks and nose and your eyes shining in the soft lights of the late afternoon. 

We walked together and I never felt more alive, more connected to this world, our world. Our past isn’t an easy one, we didn’t get here without stumbling along the way, but we made it. There’d been mistakes, but in that moment, none of it mattered. In that moment, we belonged, our silence really more communicative than words ever could be. The air was clear, and we found this little alcove, eclipsed in the trees, where you stopped. A longing glance and quickly, you pulled me in, enveloped me in your arms, and you hummed a song or another, swaying with me under the stars, the moonlight making the snow glitter and sheltering our secret. You didn’t care for the mysteries of astronomy, but I hoped one day you could recognize the beauty of it as I did that night, the complexity of the universe reflecting in your eyes. 

The winter wrapped us in like a blanket, protecting us in our private hideout, a snug refuge from the outside turbulence. We danced, and it was as if we’d always been, as if we were made in concert, to be at once. My head on your shoulder, your hands on the small of my back, holding onto each other, a fixed point in a moving life, a changing age. 

Time passed and I swallowed our music with my lips, my fingers playing with your hair, our tongues replacing our bodies in a gentle dance. Stolen breaths, exquisite moans, pulling away to breathe in and crashing back in waves. Ruffled hair and bruised lips and clashing teeth, gloved hands on cold skin. Fir thorns all over your coat. Passion like a fire, burning and devouring everything in its path, consuming us. 

The wind picked up and we shivered, untucked shirts exposing goosebumps filled skin. A knowing stare, and a giggle, that turned into laughter as we cuddled in your open coat. You wrapped your scarf loosely around my shoulders and I snuggled my freezing nose against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites from your collarbone to the nape. I nibbled your ear lobe and you groaned, pushing against me. Always so sensitive. I journeyed back to your mouth and bit your lower lip, rubbing my nose against yours. 

The night had fallen upon us and the only sound mingling with our breaths was the whistle of the winter draft in the trees. I pushed your face up and we looked at the sky, at the infinite darkness blurred by the eternal London lights. The delightful beauty, hidden by civilization. Like us, a victim of the times. 

“We should head back, it’s getting late, and people will ask.”  
“People will always ask, Watson. Let them wonder.”  
“Holmes.”  
Our eyes met, an unavoidable moment, an unfortunate situation.  
“Closed curtains, my dear friend.”  
“To Baker Street then,” I agreed, taking a step back. We made ourselves presentable, buttoning and replacing our clothes until we were proper for society. I grabbed your hand, saddened by the distance a simple glove could create between us.  
“Do you hold hopes that perhaps, in the fullness of time, we might be allowed to be ourselves in public?”  
“I don’t think the world will ever be ready for that, my dear Watson. Although I believe one day, when centuries have passed, the true story may be told.”


End file.
